We Say YES PLEASE to Amy Poehler’s New Semi-Memoir’s Official Cover

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In “oh god please just take my goddamn money and put it on The New York Times Bestseller list already” news, Amy Poehler’s memoir-ish forthcoming book, Yes Please, has a cover design now. (Oh gosh that October release date cannot come soon enough, you guys.) And it’s alright if you’re really, really excited because we are, too. OBVIOUSLY.

No doubt a nod to the mantra she and fellow Upright Citizens Brigade Theater co-founders established — “Yes and” — the book has been called an “original twist on the conventional memoir [that] will have universal appeal,” according to her publisher, It Books, a pop culture imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. “An illustrated, non-linear diary full of humor and honesty and brimming with true stories, fictional anecdotes and life lessons, the book will be a unique and engaging experience from one of today’s most talented and beloved stars.”

And the cover is an electric reminder of the confident badassitude that Poehler brings to any and everything she does:

If you’re a devotee such as we to the Good Ship Poehler, you know we’ve already seen a snippet from the forthcoming book in The New Yorker. In the essay “Take Your Licks,” Poehler waxes romantically about her summer job as a high schooler, reminding us once again that she is one of the greatest humans alive today and possibly maybe ever.

“If you were young, you were expected to have a part-time job. I got one, scooping ice cream at Chadwick’s, a local parlor that specialized in sundaes and giant steak fries. Summer jobs are often romantic; the time frame creates a perfect parenthesis. Chadwick’s was not. Hard and physical, the job consisted of stacking and wiping and scooping and lifting. At the end of my shift, every removable piece of the restaurant would be carted off and washed. Vinyl booths were searched and scrubbed. This routine seemed Sisyphean at first, but I soon learned the satisfaction of working at a place that truly closed. I took great joy in watching people stroll in after hours, thinking they could grab a late-night sundae. I would point to the dimmed lights and stacked chairs as proof that we were shut. It was deliciously obvious and final.”